


A Fool's Errand

by oldmountainsoul



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Autistic Character(s), Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, First Meetings, Fix-It of Sorts, Neurodivergent Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 06:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7302364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldmountainsoul/pseuds/oldmountainsoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nysse Kallig meets Ashara Zavros for the first time. </p><p>A much less squicky re-imagining of SI Taris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fool's Errand

“Ashara Zavros, I presume?”

 

“Who is this? How do you know my name? How did you get my frequency?” Ashara demands as she flickers into view on Nysse’s holocom.

 

“My, my, so many questions! Are Jedi not allowed social calls?” Nysse says dryly.

 

“And you didn’t answer any of them!”

 

“No, no I did not. But I suppose I could, since you asked so _nicely_ …”

 

Ashara’s brow furrows. “I didn’t ask nicely, though.”

 

“Not exactly, no,” Nysse chuckles. “But I’ll do you that small courtesy regardless. My name is Nysse, and I received both your name and holo frequency from a particularly despicable Sith named Elios Maliss. He’s been hunting you for quite some time, I’m afraid. I’ve called you because I’d like to come to a mutually beneficial solution so that he doesn’t try to send someone else after you.”

 

And Nysse had nearly thrown him through the walls of his office when he’d said to her as much. Maliss is an incompetent, smug, obsequious, _creepy_ little man--and she has little patience for any of those traits alone, much less in combination. But she settled for laughing him to scorn when he suggested she stalk Ashara as he had.

 

No, she will speak to Ashara like a _person,_ and charm her way into a solution if logic and reason aren’t enough. She will not be like _them,_ like Zash--she will be different, she will be _better--_ and she will utterly destroy them for trying to make her that way.

 

“ _What?_ ” Ashara exclaims, and her holo-figure begins pacing agitatedly back and forth, flickering in and out of focus. “You said you heard from a Sith, and that can only mean... _You’re_ a Sith, too, aren’t you.”

 

“I am a Lord of the Sith, Ashara. But I am not here to spin you lies or lure you into a trap.  I simply need your help.”

 

“Why should I help you? And why would a Sith need a Jedi’s help in the first place?”

 

Nysse’s mouth quirks up in amusement. This Jedi has good instincts; she’s well within her rights to question Nysse’s motives. Ashara is no fool, fortunately. She’s never been one to suffer fools.

 

“I understand the ghost of your ancestor has been disturbing your enclave. I can take care of the ghost if you will summon him for me.”

 

“How? Even Master Ryen couldn’t pacify the ghost. What makes you think _you_ can?” Ashara huffs.  

 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize Jedi Masters were in the habit of practising ancient Sith rituals to bind ghosts,” Nysse sneers, rolling her eyes.

 

“They _aren’t._ ”

 

“I thought as much. How can you say that it can’t be done, if you haven’t tried everything yet?”

 

“The Jedi Enclave is a sacred place--I can’t allow you to perform a dark side ritual in it!”

 

“If it’s still sacred after being conquered by Sith, bombarded from orbit, and then inhabited by mutants and a murderous ghost, I hardly see why a harmless ritual would defile it now.”

 

“That’s--that’s different,” Ashara says, faltering. “Why are you interested in the ghost, anyway? Why would you help me get rid of it? Why are you trying to help me at all?”

 

Nysse lets out a long sigh, rubbing her temples. She chose to beseech Ashara rather than stalk and study her, so she has little choice but to play the part well, and continue down the path she’s chosen. Here is where she must seal the deal: no lies, no tricks, no insincerity or condescension.

 

“Because however you may feel about me, we have the same problem. We are both hunted by the Sith because of the circumstances of our birth--you, because you are the descendant of a ghost that a Sith wishes to control, and I, because I dared to rise to power in the Empire though I was born a slave. The ritual I would perform in your enclave would bind the ghost to me. With it, I would have the power to stand against those who would see me destroyed, and your Enclave would be cleansed, leaving no reason for the Sith to continue pursuing you. That is why I have asked for your help and offered mine in turn, Ashara.”

 

“I… I didn’t know about this Elios Maliss, or if you’re even telling the truth about the Sith hunting me at all. But you’re right. I do need the ghost out of the Enclave. And… And if you can do that, then I’m willing to help you with it,” Ashara says carefully. She then straightens her shoulders, her brow furrowing as she glares at Nysse through the comm. “Don’t underestimate me just because I’m a Padawan. Even Master Ryen can’t beat me in a duel! So if this is a trap, or if you try to hurt anyone in the Enclave... I swear I’ll cut you in two, Sith!”  

 

“By all means, please do,” Nysse says dryly. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. If you escort me safely to and from your enclave, I will not harm you or your fellow Jedi. You have my word, Ashara. Now, do we have a deal?”

 

Ashara frowns, considering for a moment. “...Very well. You have a deal, Sith.”

 

“Good. Then I’ll be waiting for you in the swamp outside the enclave when you’re ready to take me to the ghost.”

  


It’s well past midnight when Ashara finally seeks her out. She’s tense, agitated, brandishing her lightsabers and waving them about as if to ward off evil, surveying Nysse’s encampment through their glow.

 

“Oh, good. I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come, Jedi.”

 

“We had a deal, Sith. I’ll keep my word if you keep yours,” Ashara snaps, pointing one of her sabers at Nysse’s chest. “One Sith in the enclave is too many already. Are you alone?”

 

“Are any of us ever _really_ alone, Ashara?” Nysse says dryly.

 

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

 

“Oh, _very well_ . I am the only _living_ Sith here, Ashara. You have my word,” Nysse says, giving Ashara her most ostentatious bow.

 

“What do you mean by that?” Ashara says suspiciously, jabbing the air with her sabers to keep Nysse back.

 

“You agreed to our arrangement on the assumption that I could bind ghosts to my will, did you not? Your ancestor will neither be the first nor the last in my service.” Nysse yawns, violet light pouring out of her eyes at the mention of her ghosts. She pushes them back--she has no time to deal with bickering dead men now--and flicks her wrist, nudging Ashara’s lightsabers away from her with a touch of Force. “You needn’t worry, Ashara. If all goes well, I’ll have no reason to bring Ergast and Andru out to play.”

 

Ashara frowns. “That’s not exactly comforting,” she says.

 

Nysse shrugs. “If it makes you more comfortable, you’re more than welcome to escort me to the ghost with your lightsaber at my back. It’s certainly what I’d do in your position.”

 

“...No.”

 

“‘No...?’”

 

“No,” Ashara repeats, shaking her head emphatically as she puts away her lightsabers. “I don’t want to be like you. I don’t want to do anything a Sith would do. I trust you to keep your word, Nysse.”

 

_Oh._

 

Ashara… _trusts_ her. Doesn’t necessarily _like_ her, but--she trusts her. Is trusting her. And she remembered Nysse’s name--how long has it been since she’s heard her own name, since she has been simply _Nysse,_ not _slave_ , not apprentice, not _Sith_ \--just… _Nysse._

 

“Are you sure?” Nysse says softly, and it’s all she can do to keep her voice from wobbling. “Few would call that wise, Ashara.”

 

“Why did you ask me to trust you, then?” Ashara asks, cocking her head to the side.  

 

She is a _Sith,_ and she is untouchable, above such nonsense and beyond reproach. She would do well to remember that. She doesn’t need Ashara’s trust, she’s only tried to gain it as a courtesy. Out of whimsy, a fleeting fancy, and nothing more.

 

“It was simply preferable to all other options at the time.” Nysse gives her a crooked smile. “...To be fair, I honestly didn’t expect you to give it so freely. Thank you for that. I do appreciate your help, and that you’re not making this harder than it has to be.”  

 

“Thank me after you get rid of the ghost,” Ashara says with a shudder. “We should get moving. The sooner Kalatosh is gone, the better.”

 

“He’ll be gone before you know it, Ashara. Just show me the way.”

  


Their trek to the enclave is uneventful, thankfully free of rakghouls, and they manage to avoid any undue attention from the other Jedi. The main hall is deserted, and it’s there that they begin their preparations.

 

“Are you sure this will work?” Ashara asks nervously, pacing back and forth.

 

Nysse sighs. _Are Jedi always so agitated?_  

 

“It’s a little late for second thoughts now,” she says, turning to face Ashara and reaching out to rest her hands on the Jedi’s shoulders, looking her in the eye. “You said you’d trust me. Well, this is it. Now is when I need your trust, Ashara. You worry about summoning the ghost, and I’ll take care of the rest. I promise you that.”  

 

“That’s easy for you to say,” Ashara snaps. “You don’t understand. You haven’t seen the ghost--last time Kalatosh almost killed someone, even with Master Ryen and Master Ocera there to pacify him. He just gets more violent every time I summon him.”

 

“I won’t let any harm befall you, Ashara,” Nysse says firmly. “I won’t let that happen. You have my word.”  Nysse’s still clinging to Ashara’s shoulders, suddenly struck with the desire to pull her closer, embrace her, reassure her somehow.

 

Ashara said she’d trust her, and Nysse wants so very badly for that to be true. She’s going to fix all this and survive, whether Ashara helps her or not. But...

 

Somehow, she has Ashara’s trust. And Nysse can’t bear the thought of losing it now.

 

“...Alright. Let’s--let’s just get this over with,” Ashara stammers, pulling away and taking a seat on the floor to meditate.

 

Nysse steps back, keeping watch while Ashara begins her own ritual. Something’s… not quite right though, _warning_ and _danger_ echoing in her mind as the hair stands up on the back of her neck and her skin begins to crawl. But Ashara hasn’t summoned the ghost yet, it can’t be Kalatosh--

 

Suddenly a red lightsaber flies towards her, and Nysse barely brings her hand up in time to block it, absorbing the worst of the blow with a static barrier.

 

“Elios Maliss,” she says, drawing her own saber as Maliss leaps down from an alcove. “I should have had you put down like the dog you are back at base camp.”

 

“I could say the same for you, Kallig. But as it is, Darth Thanaton’s offering me a lordship in exchange for the ghost and your head on a pike,” Maliss retorts as they circle each other, never breaking eye contact, never wavering as they keep their sabers pointed at each other.

 

“ _You stupid, insignificant little man, you’ll wake the Jedi and bring the entire enclave down on our heads,_ ” Nysse hisses.

 

“That’s hardly a cause for concern, Kallig,” Maliss says. “Lord Anathemos was more than happy to lend me his assassins for a chance to earn Thanaton’s favor. And I’m sure they’d welcome an opportunity for more bloodshed. Wouldn’t you, boys?” He glances back over his shoulder, and half a dozen Sith appear behind him, their red lightsabers flicking on all at once.

 

“You see, Kallig, _you_ were the only one foolish enough to come here alone,” he sneers.

 

“She’s not alone.”

 

Suddenly, Ashara is at her side.

 

Ashara, bright and strong and blue sabers drawn.

 

Ashara, beside her.

 

Ashara, _defending_ her _._

 

“Have it your way, Jedi. Do try to leave the alien alive--we need her to summon the ghost,” Maliss orders, as the assassins move to surround them--

 

“That’s _enough_ ,” Nysse snaps, and a wave of crackling violet  energy blasts from her outthrust fist, throwing back Maliss and his cadre of assassins. She dives after them, the air thick and crackling with electricity around her as she slams into Maliss.

 

 _“You won’t lay a hand on her,”_ Nysse snarls, lightning pouring off of her as she forces Maliss’s own lightsaber towards his head inch by inch--pressing, pressing, pressing, going for his throat-- “You are _nothing._ You’ll just be a _smear_ on the fucking _wall_ when I’m through with you, you disgusting little man--”

 

And then she beheads him with his own lightsaber.

 

She _might_ have overdone it with the theatrics, though Maliss and a couple of his men are down--but she’s left Ashara to fend for herself against four somewhat-dazed Sith assassins.  

 

Ashara is a whirlwind of blue as she parries and blocks with both sabers, keeping the Sith from flanking her or getting a strike in edgewise, but just barely holding her own.

 

Nysse hurtles forward, impaling one who wasn’t fast enough to get out of her way. And then Ashara takes care of the rest, arcing both her lightsabers outward and slicing through the remaining three assassins at once.

 

“Are you alright? Did they hurt you?” Nysse blurts out, clipping her lightsaber to her belt and rushing over to Ashara, healing energy already gathered at her fingertips.

 

“No, no, I’m fine,” Ashara stammers, shaking her head and warding Nysse off. “But the fighting will have--”

 

“WHO DARES DISTURB MY SLUMBER?” booms a voice from the center of the hall, a vortex of purple light swirling around a transparent Togruta figure. Kalatosh rounds on Ashara, striding forward and jabbing the air with his ghostly fingers. “Child! I warned you what would happen if you summoned me again--”

 

“Yes, yes, murder and mayhem and a pox upon her household, or something to that effect?” Nysse interjects, putting herself between Ashara and the ghost. “You’re awfully loud for a dead man. I’m going to enjoy shutting you up for good.”

 

She begins to form the invisible chains, simple, fragile things at first, reaching into the heart of the ghost and _twisting,_ bending him to her will. Kalatosh howls, refusing to come quietly, lightning arcing off his form. Nysse grits her teeth as the electricity races up her arms, grunting with the effort of keeping the ritual going.

 

Then Nysse smirks as the chains begin to take shape, forcing the ghost to his knees and dragging him toward her.

 

She stumbles as his power suffuses her, and Ashara catches her by the arm.

 

“Is that it?” Ashara says hopefully. “Is he gone for good now?”

 

“Yes. Your ancestor will never hurt anyone again. Well, except the people I don’t like...” Nysse pauses, chewing her lip, savoring the new power simmering under her skin.

 

And what a _marvelous_ feeling it was. She feels unstoppable, _invincible,_ not quite enough for her to risk grinding Thanaton’s face into the dirt yet, but so very, very close. Her business is finished on this miserable planet, and now she’s free to…

 

...face the two horrified Jedi Masters in the entryway.

 

“Master Ryen, Master Ocera, this isn’t--” Ashara protests, pushing past Nysse to face her masters. One of them, an enormous Cathar man, raises his hand, cutting Ashara off before she can explain.

 

“Ashara, _what have you done?_ ” he says, taking in the whole wretched scene--corpses litter the floor in various states of dismemberment, some charred by the lightning Nysse and the ghost had been throwing about, and Nysse and Ashara in the midst of them, virtually unscathed.

 

“She cleansed your enclave, Jedi. You should be thanking her on bended knee,” Nysse sneers.

 

“I was just trying to solve our problems--Kalatosh won’t be hurting anyone anymore--the Sith took care of him, Master Ryen--” Ashara pleads, but the other Jedi are already drawing their sabers.

 

“We will discuss this after the evil here has been dealt with, Ashara,” the Cathar says, rounding on Nysse.

 

 _No._ No, this is Nysse’s fault--Ashara is blameless here. 

 

Whatever else happens, she _refuses_ to let Ashara suffer the consequences for her actions.

 

“Your Padawan has done nothing wrong, Jedi. Don’t be so hasty,” Nysse says carefully, raising her hands and halfheartedly attempting to placate Ashara’s masters.  

 

“Ashara will receive her punishment later. You should be more concerned for _your_ immediate well-being, _Sith,_ ” the human Jedi spits as he moves to flank them.

 

“ _No!”_ Ashara shouts, pulling out her lightsabers and putting herself between her master and a Sith Lord, until she’s back to back with Nysse. “This is _wrong_. I won’t let you hurt her.”

 

“Ashara, she’s a _Sith_ who just murdered her own kind! You can’t _trust_ her; you have no idea what she’s capable of.”

 

“Is that the Jedi way, Master Ryen? To be judge, jury, and executioner, without knowing the whole story? Without even _considering_ what kind of person she is?” Ashara demands, jabbing with her sabers to keep the human away.

 

“The Sith has defiled a sacred place, Ashara. And she has obviously led you astray. The evidence is right before your eyes. Do not let her fall be your own,” the Cathar, Master Ocera says, never taking his eyes off of Nysse.

 

“Ashara…” Nysse whispers out of the corner of her mouth. “You don’t have to do this. You’ve done more than enough for me already.”

 

“No, I’m afraid I do,” Ashara replies. “This is _wrong._ I promised I’d get you out of here safely. And I will. Even… Even if it’s Master Ryen, I’m not going to let them hurt you.”

 

“Are you sure about this?” Nysse murmurs, finally drawing her saber.

 

“Inaction would be unacceptable. I’m.... I’m sure, Nysse.”

 

“Very well then.” Nysse raises her voice, addressing the Jedi Masters and pointing her bronze saber at Ocera’s chest. “Let me leave in peace, Jedi, and no harm will come to you or any of your initiates. But if you will not let me pass… I make no guarantees.”

 

“You’re not in a position to be making ultimatums here, Sith,” Ocera says.

 

Nysse sighs. “You can’t say I didn’t warn you…” she mutters under her breath as the Jedi Master preempts her, leaping into the air to attack her.

 

She gathers energy in her fingertips, igniting elements in the air to shoot lightning out of hands. Ocera grunts, dropping like a stone onto one knee. He quickly recovers though, taking the next burst of lightning on the blade of his lightsaber, and pressing forward, determined to force Nysse into close quarters.

 

Ashara is no longer at her back--she literally threw herself at Master Ryen, engaging him in a duel to keep him from double teaming Nysse, their sabers flashing back and forth as the human Jedi tries in vain to defend himself from Ashara’s onslaught.

 

“I don’t know what you’ve done to Ashara, Sith, but I’m going to make you pay for it,” Ocera growls.

 

“And here I thought the Jedi way was mercy,” Nysse retorts, lifting the Jedi Master in the air and tossing him into the hall, knocking the air out of his lungs. As Ocera recovers, she gathers her strength, charging the air and sending a thundering blast of lightning through him to make sure he stays down. He slumps to the floor, and as the energy from her burst suffuses him, his life blinks out in the Force.

 

Well. That was quick… Kalatosh’s ghost must have made her more powerful than she’d dared to hope. But who is she to complain?

 

Another life blinks out shortly thereafter, and Nysse whirls around to find Ashara on her hands and knees, crouched over Master Ryen’s body.

 

She--

 

Ashara just killed her master.

 

For _her._

 

Ashara’s grief is palpable as it pours out of her, hitting Nysse like a wave and almost knocking her off her feet. The ghost is bound, Elios Maliss and his lackeys are dead… But so are Ashara’s masters.

 

And Ashara killed one of them. For her, because of _her,_ because they sought to harm her. Because Ashara promised her safe passage from the Enclave and would rather face her master than go back on her word--

 

Everything.

 

Ashara has just given her _everything_ and lost it all--

 

Because of _Nysse_.

 

Because of who she is.

 

Death and destruction follow wherever she goes, that is a fact of life as a Sith, as a fugitive.

 

But Ashara deserved better. _Deserves_ better.

 

Ashara is on her hands and knees, sobbing as tears stream down her face and she empties the contents of her stomach onto the floor. Nysse crouches down next to her, reaching out to put her hand on Ashara’s shoulder, to comfort her, but pulls away at the last moment. Ashara’s armor is full of holes, places where her guard faltered and her master’s lightsaber had burned through and melted skin and metal.

 

Nysse reaches into the Force and waves her hand over the worst of the wounds, violet light filling her eyes as she breathes new life into the charred flesh, gently pulling the melted armor away to let it heal properly.  

 

Ashara looks up at her, gasping for air as she chokes on another sob. “I--I didn’t know Sith could heal.”

 

“Some of us, yes. How else do you think I’ve survived this long?” Nysse murmurs, smiling sadly. “...For what it’s worth, I am deeply sorry for what’s transpired here. Thank you, for everything you’ve done for me. You may have saved my life here, and I will forever be in your debt. Be well, Ashara Zavros.”

 

Nysse climbs to her feet, trudging towards the exit. She can tend to her own wounds later, but Ashara… There is nothing more she can do for her. She has brought enough sorrow to the Jedi. She will bring no more. Nothing she could give would compensate her for her grief.

 

“Wait,” Ashara calls, her voice breaking, and Nysse stops dead in her tracks.

 

“You can’t just leave me here, after--after--” Ashara stammers.

 

“Haven’t I done enough already? I--” Nysse stops herself, shaking her head in disbelief as she turns to face her. “I will only bring you more pain, Ashara. What would you have me do?”

 

Ashara falters as she tries to stand, her hands shaking and her knees knocking together. “I’m like you now. I’m--I’m a fugitive. The Jedi will never--n-never take me back now. I can’t be trusted. I k-killed my own master, Nysse.”

 

“What would you have me do, Ashara?” Nysse repeats helplessly, reaching out a hand to steady Ashara as she stumbles forward.

 

_Ask me for the galaxy, and I would give it to you now._

 

“Take me with you,” Ashara blurts out. “I don’t know anything but the Jedi. I have nowhere else to go. Please, Nysse.”

 

“I… Yes. Of course, anything you ask. I owe you that much,” Nysse says numbly, as Ashara wraps her arm around her shoulder, clinging to her for dear life as they set off together towards whatever the future may hold.

 


End file.
